


Le 15 février

by Gigi_Bug



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Valentine's Day Fic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:15:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29776722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gigi_Bug/pseuds/Gigi_Bug
Summary: So their Valentine's Day date was a bust but the day after is a lot more promising.For DarkLadyNoir
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	Le 15 février

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkLadyNoir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkLadyNoir/gifts).



> For DarkLadyNoir. 
> 
> It's late but I still present to you your belated Valentine’s fic! I rewrote it like eight times, but so long as you like it, that's all that matters. Enjoy! 
> 
> No Beta, we peace out like Master Fu. (So I might return to this to edit it later).

~♡~

It's 02:00 in the morning the day after Valentine's Day, and Marinette can't fathom where the trediptation came from. Standing outside of Adrien's hard won apartment is only part of it. She's not sure how to parse out the rest or where she'll go from here. Fidgeting with the blue clutch in her hands—the simple one she'd sewn together with remnants of fabric she'd used for her dress—she stilled when Tikki gave a petulant nudge from the inside. 

_Don't crush me again_. 

Or she could have meant: 

_Quit being a coward and talk to him already._

Or more accurately: 

_I'm too tired to deal with any of this._

Which, fair. 

After yesterday Tikki had every right to be short, petulant and 1,000,000,000% done with everything. 

Her and Marinette both. 

... 

... 

... 

And Adrien and Plagg too. 

Marinette groaned and brought a hand to her face. The tension headache—or the cause could be dehydration, that can't be ruled out either—flared anew. 

Perhaps _this_ is why she's at a loss. 

Eight years worth of keeping secret identities...well, a secret and now? 

Gone. 

Poof. 

_No more_. 

She finally had her long awaited date with Adrien Agreste and she didn't even get to enjoy it. She'd been looking forward to this for far longer than she cared to admit only for it to be constantly interrupted by Akumas. Just as they'd get into the swing of their date, jilted lovers, disappointed spouses and the heartbroken souls victimized by an opportunistic butterfly took precedence. Neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir were pleased to be called away from their dates. And in their frustration they let one too many details slip through while venting to one another. 

During the first Akuma Ladybug snarled about already being twenty minutes late and now she'd be an hour longer. When Chat asked she explained that at the last minute she completely redid the hem of her Valentine's Day dress. And no, she didn't opt for the seasonal reds or pinks, but rather blue because it was her date's favorite color and it made her eyes _pop_. Chat Noir may have mentioned doing something similar for his date.

At the third Akuma a grumpy Chat Noir complained about losing the reservation at their restaurant. Wanting nothing more than to be helpful, Ladybug suggested street vendors. Not as romantic as a restaurant but then it could just be him and his date, and that kind of intimacy was romantic in it's own right. 

With the fifth Akuma came Ladybug muttering under her breath. She hoped Tikki enjoyed the Nutella crêpe her date bought her because she sure as heck didn't and she was starving. Chat gave her a funny look and mournfully mentioned he had a crêpe too but had to toss it. (Like Plagg would ever allow strawberries near his refined, sensitive palate). 

By the seventh Akuma Chat arrived spitting mad. He'd been working up the nerve to kiss his date all night and this stupid transteleportation Akuma zapped him clear across the city. Ladybug was unable to voice a similar frustration and at this point she couldn't blatantly ignore the coincidences. It was fortunate then, that Chat's focus was thoroughly on the Akuma because she found herself distracted by him. 

But the thirteenth Akuma... Ladybug was near tears and Chat Noir verily drooped at the end of the battle. Despite his best efforts, he felt certain that his date would want nothing to do with him after this disastrous evening. Nothing went right; he hadn't been present for a majority of the evening. He should've just ignored Alya's (and yes, h _e dropped Alya's name_ ) insistence of giving his date a grand, romantic Valentine's Day date. It was a fool's hope to have such aspirations in the City of Love, on Valentine's Day, with Hawk Moth being petty because he'd been blue-balled by Mayura still at large. 

Which brought her to now. 

Marinette raised her hand to knock on the door to Adrien's apartment but halted midair. 

She pieced it together, but did Chat? 

"Marinette," Tikki growled, flitting out of the clutch to hover at eye level with her. "You've been standing here an hour. Either you knock on that door, or I will." 

"You wouldn't." 

_Oh wouldn't I?_ Tikki's expression seemed to say. 

She was about to make good on her word, all prepped to hurl her tiny body at the door, when Adrien opened it. 

And Tikki flew right through his face. 

"Ack!" 

Well if Adrien hadn't figured it out before, now he certainly knew. However, judging by the lack of confusion at a kwami phasing through his sinuses, he did know. 

"Well that was rude." He briefly glared at a point over his shoulder, where Tikki had made herself scarce in the living area beyond. Marinette could hear Plagg cackling from somewhere. 

"Yeah....well," Marinette started lamely, saying something for the sake of saying it. "Given how the last twelve hours were, I'd say she deserves a free pass." 

They stood there quietly for several long minutes. Each waiting for the other to say something more.

Where to even begin? 

The matter of their secret identities? 

Their failed Valentine's Date that they'd probably laugh about next year? 

That they were absolute _morons_ who apparently couldn't like anyone other than each other? 

"Adrien?" Marinette said in a small voice.

"Yeah?" 

"It's February fifteenth." 

He blinked, unsure of where she intended to go with this. "Er....yeah. So it is." 

"I didn't have anything planned today." 

"No?" 

Dare she think it but did Adrien look hopeful? Eager? "Nope. I'm completely free." 

She purposefully scheduled a free day anyway to revel in the high she got from being around him. Not because she'd hoped Adrien might invite her back to that modest apartment of his that he didn't share with a roommate. (Because one of the stipulations for moving out of that cold childhood home was that he live alone). 

"Neither do I." He offered. "Have plans, that is." 

"No?" 

He shook his head. "I am _also_ completely free." 

A pause. 

And then they pounced. 

Well, Marinette did the pouncing despite Adrien being the one with obvious cat associations. He caught her, easily, like he always did and always would. 

Her legs wrapped tightly around his waist to hold her in place. Her fingers gleefully diving into his ridiculously soft hair, clenching it just a smidge too tight to tilt his head just so. Somewhere in between all of that he managed to shut the door and lock it. She wasn't sure how given that one of his arms was under her to support her weight and the other wound around her waist to hold her closer to him. But she did hear that lock 'click' solidly into place. 

Marinette didn't go for a kiss just yet. She wanted to savour the look in his eyes. It's endearing how the adoration Chat Noir gave her with his kitten eyes hasn't changed when he's not transformed. 

She quite liked it no matter what his guise.

"Well hey there," he said as she pressed her forehead to his. "Nice of you to drop by." 

Adrien nudged his nose against hers. She couldn't properly see him grinning like this but she knew he was. 

"At least we're not upside-down this time." 

"That's not how it went." He pouted. "Although, regarding positions, I'm willing if you are—" 

Utilising her grip on his hair she angled his head and slanted her lips against his. It's an effective way to shut him up. Heaven forbid he start punning. He's warm and she can smell a touch of the spiced cologne he'd taken to wearing lately. She can also detect the sharp tang of his sweat and—

Oh. 

_Oh_. 

He opens his mouth to her, encouraging her to do the same. He's definitely adept with that tongue of his which gives her plenty of ideas for later. 

The arm beneath her goes slack, just enough for Marinette to slowly slide down his body. In that same moment Adrien rushes her to the nearest wall, so that it can bear some of her weight and force her chest to press tightly to his. She wasn't prepared for liquid heat to sear through her blood at this. It's enough to momentarily distract her from kissing him with a sharp, pitched inhale as his lips start to wander to her neck.

"Cat got your tongue?" 

She cam _feel_ the shit-eating grin pressed against her.

Marinette groaned—not the good kind of groan—and let her head drop against his shoulder. This has the added benifit of granting him some access to the back of her neck. He doesn't waste the opprotunity to give a little love bite.

"I'd say this cat officially _has_ your tongue."

With a vindictive tug on his hair, Marinette yanks his head back. "Please tell me you're not going to pun the entire time."

"I'd never have pegged you for having a hair pulling kink." 

" _Mon Chaton,_ " she warned, hyper aware of how he avoided a direct answer. "I'll peg you."

Marinette finds immense pleasure watching the way his eyes darken at that.

"Pot calling the kettle black, My Lady—" Marinette's heart flutters at the familar nickname when they're like this "—you can't comment on my puns and then go and make one yoursel—"

Marinette squirmed a bit against him—also effective in shutting him up—as the belt on his pants is starting to pinch the tender skin of her inner thighs. It's uncomfortable enough to distract her from the molten warmth that's consuming her from the inside out. 

Her hands fall away from his hair to wind around his shoulders. She squirms some more, using her arms as leverage for some reprieve from that belt. They'll have to remove it sooner rather than later.

"There's a time and place for everything," she quips. 

Adrien opens his mouth, likely in defense of his puns or to spew another terrible one, and Marinnette rakes her nails across his shoulders. The effect is dulled by the protection his shirt offers but her annoyance is conveyed.

"We've got the whole day Adrien," she reminded him. "Plenty of opportunity for your ridiculous puns later."

"Fine," he whines, but she knows he's paid attention to her wording. She hasn't forbidden them completely.

She signals by tapping him on the shoulder in three rapid taps to let her down. That belt has ruined this position. He stepped away from the wall and loosned his grip so that Marinette's feet can touch the floor.

He must've misread the purpose behind her wanting down, because she recognizes how he supresses the insecurity from his expression. Years of reading him as both Chat Noir and Adrien have her well versed with these cues.

Craddling the side of his face in one hand, her thumb traced underneath his left eye. "Let's go to bed?"

Adrien's hand cups her's against his face, his fingers threading through her own. He turns his head enough to press a kiss to the pulse point of her wrist.

"Yes M'Lady." 

She could get used to that. 

Especially if he says it again in that voice.

His clothes, along with her shoes, are discarded as they meander to his bedroom—he insists on finding a hanger for her dress to spare it the fate of lying abandoned on the floor.

"You're _wearing_ my favorite color." He batted her hand away from the zipper. 

He won't hear anything about sparing _his_ designer wear the same fate.

Marinette eagerly divests him of the belt first. That she flings aside without fussing. And even though he clearly cares nothing for his clothes she does take her time with his button up shirt. She's slow to tug it free from his pants, pressing chaste kisses to his lips with each button undone. She trails her hand up his torso, grinning when she feels the muscles jolt at her touch, curving her hands over his shoulder and using the backs of her hands to encourage the fabric to fall down and off his arms. It catches on his wrists and she plucks it free before he can shake it off.

"Don't think I didn't notice you wore _my_ favorite color." She snarked, hanging it on the door knob in the hall.

His hands are back on her, one curling at her waist to tug her closer and the other at the back of her head, to tilt her for an open mouthed kiss.

After his dress shirt though, impatience rears it's head and she's done with taking her time. His undershirt is tugged up and off. The button to his pants flicked open, zipper barely loosed and she's shoving them down his hips.

They catch around his legs and Adrien stumbles into his bedroom door, cursing as his lips temporarily are ripped from her.

"Sorry about that." Marinette giggled, allowing to hop out of his pants. 

Her giggles and his curses only increase when one of the pant legs rolls inside out and snags around his ankle. He manages though and before she can get a good look at him in his silk boxer-briefs, he's in front of her again.

"Your turn." He made a spinning motion with his finger. 

Marinette obliged by pivoting on her heel to present the zipper to him. He's heartbreakingly gentle with it. She briefly wonders if the consideration he's showing is because he knows she made this dress with him specifically in mind or because it's her design. Something tells her it's both as Adrien is an unfailingly considerate person.

One warm hand presses at the top of her shoulder blades, providing just enough tension on the dress for his other hand to slowly draw the zipper down.

Marinette has to bite down on her lower lip when Adrien makes an adorably strangled noise that she'll have to get him to make again. He must've noticed the foundation wear she selected and how it's better suited for enticement than practicality while remaining somewhat functional. Not that she wore it with the intention of being invited back to his place at the end of the night.

Not at all.

"So you did wear red." He cleared his throat.

"Heard you had a thing for that color too." Marinette shrugged, aiming for nonchalance but sounding too breathless to be.

His hands slip into the dress, simultainiously pulling it free from her shoulders while circling to around her rib cage. It's her turn for her stomach to jolt at his touch. Adrien steps up behind her, tugging her back flush against his front.

Even through the layers of the dress' skirts, she can feel _him_ . The warmth of his skin on hers is nice but _that_...

Before she knows it her dress is carefully peeled off of her and Adrien's encouraging her to step out of it. It's hung up neatly on an empty hanger dangling from the clothes hook behind his door. Then they're literally falling into his bed because they're all hands and mouths again, constantly rolling the other onto their backs.

She loses track of who takes off what of the article of clothing that remains between them. (For whatever reason she'll forevermore recall it that his left sock never made it off of his foot). Her hands are occupied with running along the length of him, expiramenting with sensuous strokes and light squeazes as he shamelessly grinds into her palms and begs "My Lady, faster" in a wheeze. Her purposefully leisurely pace doesn't quite reward her that adorable strangled sound from earlier but he gives her something close to it.

Oh well, she'll just have to try again.

She pays dearly for her ministrations when he curls two fingers inside her. His thumb set's a pleasently bruising pace that quickly rekindles the molten heat from earlier. Unlike her he choses to be a little rough—which is a strange role reversel for them. She'd figured that he'd be the slow and sensual of the two of them.

She's close, oh so close, panting wantonly as she's laid out beside him on the bed. Her limbs are clenched tightly, wrapped around him, her nails digging into the flesh of his biceps and back, anticipating the release when he pulls his hand free.

Marinette nearly cries in frustration, but refrains when she realizes why. He's pulled himself to the bedside table, hand slapping around the contents of the drawer searching for a condom. 

His face is flushed, but no less determined, when a ribbon of them eagerly follow. She spares him the commentary to help him fumble getting the one free. There's a lot of blushing on both their parts when the stupid foil won't tear and two sets of hands trying to open it at the same time aren't helping matters. She continues to struggle tearing the package open when Adrien pragmatically reaches for a new one.

At least the second package actually has the nick in it to let him tear it. Marinette deems the one in her hand a lost cause, flinging it over her shoulder to some unknown corner of the room.

Once Adrien's rolled it on, she rolls _him_ onto his back. She has one leg thrown over his hips when she pauses. His hands come up to her hips to help align her.

"This okay?" She asked, oddly self-concious hovering over him.

"I told you earlier; I'm _up_ for whatever position you are."

"No puns." She warned, but to stop right now would only work more against her than him.

Marinette tentatively reaches between them and aligns him at her entrance. With help from his hands pulling at her hips she sinks down. Her breathing comes out raggedly as he fills her up. She takes a moment to exoerience nothing but this feeling before she starts moving.

Despite having worked her up earlier it takes her some time to build back up to it. Which also works in Adrien's favor because she's determined to bring him over the edge with her. She's panting before long, leaning forward when he pulls her head down to meet for, admittedly, sloppy kisses. 

He's pressing at _that spot_ again and soon she can't focus on kissing when she's breathing as sharpely as she is. His is matching hers, in pace and in pitch, hips moving sharply upwards as they're approaching the climax.

And then something snaps because Marinette's keening (a loud, embarassing noise she'll dredge up the energy to care about later), which is almost drowned out by Adrien's shout.

~♡~

Minutes later, once Marinette has dismounted with grace, or rather flopped onto the duvet beside him, Adrien chuffed out a:

"Heh."

As if a funny thought just occured to him.

He rolled onto his side, reaching for her. Marinette would love to meet him halfway but she isn't certain she can move. Not that she wants to. She'll just lay here until she's no longer a puddle of goo. His hand trailed down her arm and over the back of her hand. She frowned as he played with her fingers, prompting the slack digits to form a fist; that he bumped with his own.

_What—_

Adrien adopted an innocent expression.

"Pound it M'Lady,"

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Marinette has strength enough to shove him from the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ


End file.
